A Camelot Knight in Starfleet Command
by Bineshii
Summary: A Klingon experimental ship crashes on Earth in the 6th century. Lancelot and Brian go to investigate this strange thing and are thrown forward in time by the Klingons who are using another of their experimental items: a portable transporter device.
1. Chapter 1

**Note before story: **

This story was written for Katie and Claire, who like me, are both Adventures of Sir Lancelot fans and Star Trek: Enterprise fans. I tried to put into this cross-over story, a sense of how people from a 6th century culture would perceive a 22nd century culture when they found themselves suddenly aboard a starship. But even the 6th century culture as portrayed in The Adventures of Sir Lancelot has creative anachronisms. And the 22nd century culture, of course, is completely imaginary - an extrapolation from our current culture which is a highly speculative thing indeed. Perhaps this meeting of cultures and disparate technologies is something which cannot be fully imagined, yet that is the gist of science fiction and I had fun doing it.

_**A Camelot Knight in Starfleet Command**_

A further adventure in 'The Adventures of Sir Lancelot'

And parody very loosely based on 'A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court'

By Bineshii

**Chapter 1: The Abduction**

In the late evening, at Sir Ector's estate where they were staying, Sir Lancelot and his squire, Brian, cautiously approached the strange pulsing light on foot through the woods. They had seen this strange light from the battlements, and had gone to investigate. Crouching behind bushes, Lancelot peered out into the clearing were a large metal thing rested at the end of a smoking black trail in the grasses. It looked like half melted metal, as if something had gone terribly wrong in a giant's blacksmith shop. The metal was cooling, but still glowed red in places. Brian started to say something but Lancelot put a finger to his lips and shook his head. He wanted Brian to stay crouched down so he could not be seen.

There were two shadows of extremely tall men, walking slowly around the metal thing, a bit dazed, and one was holding his arm as if wounded. Another form lay on the ground unmoving, a trail of dark liquid, which Lancelot thought might be blood, led back to the metal thing. Perhaps this was a wounded man who had been dragged away from it. Then a curious deer poked its head out of the woods across the clearing. One man raised something in one of his hands and it spit out a spark of light like a ray of sunshine coming down through the tree canopy in a dense forest. The deer collapsed in a smoldering black heap when the ray hit it.

Lancelot made a sharp intake of breath. Touching Brian's shoulder, Lancelot signaled with his other hand and an inclination of his head, for the two of them to retreat back through the woods. He was unsure how to handle this situation. He thought it better to confer with Sir Ector and return with a larger force of men, later.

Brian, noting the look of concern on Lancelot's face in the moonlight, started backing away in a crouch. He tripped on a stone and fell backwards into a sapling which shook. The two figures saw the movement and started running toward them. By the time Brian was on his feet again, the two tall men were five feet away and a light was shining on them, blinding them, but not piercing them with smoke.

Lancelot pushed Brian behind him and raised a hand palm forward saying "we mean you no harm. Who are you?"

One man spoke but Lancelot did not understand the language because in Klingon the figure had said "phasers on stun" and fired a burst which struck Lancelot in the head and chest. As Lancelot fell unconscious, Brian uttered a soft cry, went down on his knees taking Lancelot's weight as the knight fell backward. Brian noticed a shimmering of light and his hand on Lancelot' s shoulder started to disappear as if a fog was creeping over it.

The Klingon who had used his portable transporter lowered it and said "I don't know where I have sent them. But it doesn't matter, we will never know anyway. These new portable matter movers are not yet perfected. Those two beings could be anywhere and any-when."

The Klingon holding his hurt arm said "You should have used your phaser on maximum! At least then we would have known they were dead. And our experimental ship is just as unreliable as that new matter transporter! Did you get a rescue signal off before we crashed?"

"Yes. And an answer. They will be here in an hour. They will incinerate the wreck and pick us up."

"Good. Then we can get away from this primitive world in this unknown star system. Why we chose to test a new ship in uncharted space, was a stupid idea. I doubt there are even sentient life forms here, despite the noises that one was making."

"I am not so sure about that," said the other, staring at the place where Lancelot and Brian had been.

...

Brian woke up first. All was grayness. But the grayness was not stone. He felt the wall beside him, thinking it was metal armor of some sort. But it was flat metal and it kept going straight up. Above was flat armor too - all across the ceiling. With his other hand he touched chain mail and cloth – red cloth. Lancelot lay unmoving beside him. Groggy, Brian turned himself over and pulled himself to a sitting position. He felt much less fearful with Lancelot there, even in an unconscious state. Shaking Lancelot's shoulder, he tried to wake him.

Lancelot moaned and turned his head toward the voice that was urging him to wake up.

"Brian?" He asked, opening his eyes a little, wondering if they were incarcerated again. Dark, gray, cavernous place, this was. Lancelot tried to sit up but fell back in a dizzy spell which almost put him out again.

"Okay, Brian, until I recover more, describe what you see. What sort of a place is this?"

"A strange place, My Lord. It appears like we are inside a giant suit of armor. But it is not made for any shape of man that I can see. It is all flat walls. The floor is metal too, all little straight pieces in a grid that I can almost stick my fingers through. It is like very flat chain mail but woven very thick and square, and loosely. There is no straw on a dirt floor like a proper dungeon."

Lancelot put a hand on his head, trying to reduce the vertigo. He realized he had been hit with that weapon that spit out lightning. Remembering the deer, he sniffed for smoke and felt for burn marks down his chest. There did not seem to be any fire damage on him. "Help me up, Brian."

Brian pulled on Lancelot's arm and then pushed his back up. The two of them edged over to one wall so they could sit up supported.

"Are you hurt, Brian?" asked Lancelot.

"Not much. When you fell backward on me after they hit you with that fire weapon, all I saw was these sparkles in the air and everything faded away as if in fog...even my hand right in front of my face on your shoulder, as I tried to push us up."

"Strange, very strange," said Lancelot, trying to make sense of what he was now seeing around him, but squinting in pain.

Brian, seeing that Lancelot was having difficulty studying their surroundings, glanced around slowly, and continued to describe what he was seeing. "The torches are in the ceiling and they are not flickering. What magic is this?" he whispered, quite unnerved. "It smells like oil here, like what we have used on horses hooves sometimes. Or like those bogs were it boils up black. You know, that useless stuff."

They heard footfalls approaching from a passage way adjoining the one they were in. Lancelot put a gloved hand on Brian's shoulder to keep him silent. Two figures came around the corner and stopped to stare down at them. Neither Brian nor Lancelot could understand what they were saying, though the words sounded vaguely familiar.

The man knelt down to be eye level with Lancelot and said "You appear to be human. How did you get on board? Are you from Earth or one of our colonies?"

Lancelot could detect no hostility in this strangely garbed man in the one piece cloth garment with some kind of heraldic devices on the pocket and shoulder. The man was blond, like Brian. So he nodded a greeting and said "I am Lancelot of the Lake, a knight of King Arthur's realm. Who are you?"

Commander Trip Tucker glanced up at Commander T'Pol and said "We better get Hoshi and her translating device. This man appears to be speaking a dialect of English or German. I can't really tell."

T'Pol pressed the nearest communicator button on the wall of the companionway and made the request. Trip smiled at the man and the boy. They must be from a colony that had regressed in technology level far enough to need to make medieval armor. But how did they get aboard the Enterprise?

Lancelot's head was clearing a bit, but he was having one pounding headache. He saw that Brian still seemed to be okay. Another woman came around the corner next, wearing a similar one piece garment with almost identical heraldry. She looked human, Asian, he thought. But the woman who had talked into that wall box – those ears, like a demon from one of his mother's stories to scare children into behaving. Her skin color had a frightening greenish-beige tint. And those eyebrows...they were set at a strange angle. Lancelot had never considered that a demon could be beautiful, but this one was.

"Who are you," Lieutenant Hoshi Sato asked, squatting in front of Lancelot and pointing a little black box at him.

Lancelot frowned. She wasn't holding it like a weapon and it wasn't sharp, so Lancelot responded slowly and as clearly as he could "What is that? Who are you? Where are we?"

Hoshi turned to Trip Tucker saying "He appears to be asking questions. The grammar does seem to be Germanic or English, the words almost an ancient form of English. Let's keep him talking and maybe we will get enough language analysis to communicate."

"Questions?" asked Lancelot "Did you say ques-tion?"

"I did," said Hoshi, "My question is, what is your name?"

"Lancelot."

"Lancelot, I am Hoshi."

"Yes! You seem understand me now! I am Lancelot. This is Brian."

"Hello, Lancelot. Hello, Brian," said Hoshi. Then she asked "What planet are you from?"

"Planet? From?" asked Brian perplexed. "We are from Camelot, King Arthur's realm."

"I don't believe this," laughed Trip, "are these two from some asylum? Are they living out a fantasy or are they from some colony world that has gone insane?"

Brian was put out with this blond man. "We are not insane. What makes you think that we are? Is that why you have locked us up in this dungeon?"

"You are not locked up any more than we are," Hoshi said soothingly. "We are all on a star ship within the Terran System. We are moving into space dock for repairs after our latest mission."

"Ship?" Asked Lancelot. "Made with metal walls? Inside a wooden hull?"

Trip responded to this question. "You must be from a world with a different technology level. All star ships are made of some form of metal alloy."

Lancelot thought his headache was making him hear things strangely. He tried to make sense out of these people's words by responding to them. "A world? There is only ONE world. At least, I thought there was only one world. And what is this 'space' your ship is in. Where is the water?"

Trip and Hoshi exchanged glances, before Hoshi asked gently "Um, what is the name of your, I mean 'the' world? The planet?"

Lancelot was even less sure how to answer this further question. "Planet? Oh, there are planets, yes, in the night sky, Mars, Jupiter. Where we live is actually an island called Britain."

Hoshi sucked in her breath, thinking. "Okay," she said. "I believe you are from Earth. So, what year is it?"

"By Roman calendar, since the Christian reckoning of it, it is 543."

"Daniels. It is Daniels again! Damn the man!" said Trip.

"Who is this Daniels?" asked Lancelot.

Trip sighed and said "Daniels is a traveler in time. He tries to keep history from being changed. You two appear to be from our past. A very long time ago, I am afraid. Sixteen hundred years, approximately."

"Hundreds of years? That is beyond belief," said Brian. "Merlin might know something of this Daniels. But if we are from your past, you are still of our people? Or are you of the Vikings? Of the Romans? Of those from the Far East?" He was staring at Hoshi now.

"We are mostly from Earth on this ship," said Trip, noting Hoshi shaking her head and glancing at T'Pol.

Then Trip thought of something and smiled saying "There is one of our crew who is from the exact same place as you."

T'Pol hit the com button and said "Commander Reed, would you please come to C deck, companionway 3?"

...

Trip, who had gone to prepare Malcolm, explained the strange pair who had transported aboard the Enterprise, as they walked down a companionway.

Malcolm Reed frowned and shook his head. "You expect me to understand them any better than you do?" asked Malcolm. "The only difference in the way you talk and the way I talk is a slight accent. And if you must know, I did very poorly in school with Shakespeare, let alone Chaucer which was completely obtuse to me. And that is much later than the time of these people, if the 6th century is really where they are from. Even for later 20th century-early 21st century literature that deals with my favorite subject, weapons, like the Ian Fleming and Clive Cussler novels, I have to use an historical phrase dictionary. I am a weapons officer, not a damn medieval scholar or historical linguist. Leave this to Hoshi. Though, I am curious, if this man is who he says he is, he is a great legendary figure, who many people think was a literary invention and not a real person. Still, I would love to compare notes on armaments from his time. I doubt he could even begin to understand the weapons we deal with."

Trip smiled. "He has already dealt with a weapon of our time, or at least one much more advanced than his time - on the receiving end, judging from the fact that he was stunned and then transported here. But as for communication, well, you could at least try. Right now, he seems to be having trouble believing he is in a companionway and not a jail cell. Maybe just knowing you are from the same part of Earth, even if from a different time, might help."

The two Starfleet officers came around a corner to find Lancelot trying to walk while being held under one arm by Brian and the other arm by Hoshi.

"We are taking him to sick bay," Hoshi explained. "Brian objected to T'Pol touching him even though with her Vulcan strength she could have carried him all by herself."

Brian blushed, but said "I would prefer that a demon not touch Sir Lancelot."

"I am no..." T'Pol started to say, but Hoshi shook her head saying "everything is new and frightening to these two, we can explain ourselves later."

Trip and Malcolm fell into step behind Hoshi, Lancelot, and Brian, with Malcolm whispering "if they are afraid of T'Pol, what are they going to think when Phlox tries to examine them?"

...

"Well, well, do come in, don't be afraid," urged Dr. Phlox, when Brian balked at a glass door which moved to the side instead of upward like a portcullis.

"Not another demon!" Brian exclaimed. "What is this place? You say it is a ship, but it is much too large."

"Calm down, Brian," said Lancelot. "I really think these people are trying to help us."

"I wouldn't call them people, Sir Lancelot, not all of them anyway."

"I am a person, humm? And I am the ship's doctor."

Not seeing any recognition of that term, Phlox said "Medicine Man? Healer? Nurse?"

"Ah, healer, like one who tends to wounds?" asked Lancelot.

"Correct. Now if you would?" said Phlox, gesturing to the bio bed.

Lancelot blinked at the harsher light here in this sick bay than was in the hallway behind him. He tried to take a step forward, moving his shoulder on Brian's side to get the boy to help him move toward the bio bed. Brian complied reluctantly.

Hoshi moved forward saying "easy now, Sir."

Brian helped Lancelot sit on the bed. But he would not move away from Lancelot's side when the strange healer tried to push him away.

Noticing Brian glancing at the place on his arm where Phlox had touched him, Phlox said. "There will not be any warts growing on there just because an alien touched you, humm?"

Brian reddened, and tried not to look again at his tunic sleeve.

The sick bay doors flew open and Captain Archer entered.

"I hear we have a pair of alien guests that just transported aboard."

Hoshi turned to her captain and said "We believe they are human, Sir, not aliens. They appear to be from 6th century Earth. Daniels again?"

Archer frowned. "It sounds like it could be." And turning to the man on the bio bed said "I am Captain Archer, captain of this ship which is a Terran System vessel, the _Enterprise_."

Lancelot inclined his head and said "Sir, I am Lancelot of the Lake, a knight of King Arthur's Round Table. From Britain. From the Earth planet, I guess. Where is this Terran System?"

Archer glanced at Hoshi, then Phlox, with an expression that seemed to ask "is this guy nuts?"

Then he thought he should play along and not upset the man. "Um, being from the 6th century, you would not know what the Terran System is. You might be happy to learn that the Terran System is the sun and all its planets, including Earth. I am from Earth, as is most of the crew on my ship. And Commander Reed, here, is from the same place on Earth as you, Britain. Though from a different century."

Lancelot looked at Malcolm. The man looked human, at least. "Commander Reed, I am glad to make your acquaintance. My father's estate is the castle Benwick. I now reside at Camelot. This is my squire, Brian. He was from the estate of Urgan the Strong before he came to Camelot. Where in Britain are you from?"

Malcolm stepped forward. "I mostly grew up in Malaysia, Sir, where my parents are now. So I guess that is my home, officially."

"I have not heard of this castle. What part of Britain is it near?" asked Lancelot.

Captain Archer sighed in frustration and broke in to say, "I think we should all have a talk later. I would like Dr. Phlox to look you over and treat you for any injuries. After that, if you would join me in the captain's mess for some food, we can talk."

Lancelot winced with his headache and continued to squint in the strong light but said "Brain and I would gladly do that, Captain."

Phlox turned the lighting down a bit as everyone but Hoshi followed Captain Archer out of sick bay.

Phlox asked Lancelot through Hoshi's translator "How did you receive this headache you seem to be suffering from?"

Lancelot told him about the incident in the clearing - the melted metal, the killing of the deer, the attack on himself and Brian. Then Brian filled in with what he had observed.

Dr. Phlox nodded. "Sounds like a Klingon ship. Maybe an experimental craft that crashed centuries ago when they were first developing warp drive. And you were stunned with an energy weapon, one that as you noted, emits a form of light energy like natural lightening. You will fully recover. I am going to give you a medication that will immediately remove your headache. Ah, don't be afraid, the medicine is in this metal tube that I will press against your neck."

It was over before Brian could object to it. Lancelot turned his head to the left and then the right while rubbing his hand against his neck where Phlox had applied the hypo spray.

"Amazing. My headache is indeed gone now." He smiled, and started looking the alien doctor over.

Phlox noted his interest so explained "I am a Denobulan. My home world is Denobula, like yours is Earth. My home world - a planet, orbits a star - a sun, about 20 light years from Earth. I have many friends now on Earth through the Interspecies Medical Exchange."

"Light years are a measurement of time?" asked Lancelot.

"No, of distance," said Phlox. "The distance light travels in one year's time. Light travels six trillion of your miles in one year."

"Roman miles?" Lancelot asked, trying to wrap his mind around what seemed to be an incredible distance."

"A little different than a modern mile on Earth but close enough," Phlox said, warming to the subject. "But we are within the Terran System right now, at Jupiter station. That is very near your planet, Earth. At their CPA, Jupiter is 390,682,810 million miles from Earth. When the two planets are on opposite sides of the sun, they are 576,682,810 miles apart. At Jupiter Station, we are right next to your planet, actually, when you consider the vast distances between star systems."

"I see," mussed Lancelot, who had a very tentative grasp of what Phlox was saying and had no idea what CPA meant.

Phlox smiled and continued. "In your time, I am aware that not many people knew that the Earth and the other planets actually orbit the sun, am I correct? Or even that the planets are round?" Phlox, belatedly realized that Lancelot might not understand what 'opposite sides of the sun' meant.

Lancelot, who was well educated for his time, had to think about Phlox's question for a minute. "The Egyptians, Merlin said, measured the Earth using shadows and that the Earth is round and thousands of miles to completely walk around it. I don't remember how many thousands."

"Correct!" Phlox chortled, giving Lancelot his widest smile. "Twenty-five thousand miles to be exact."

Lancelot was a little disconcerted by Phlox's wide mouth expression. He then asked "You are not a human, are you? Denobulans are what the other humans here are calling an alien?"

"Yes, as is T'Pol." Admitted Phlox.

"The green pointy eared demon!" Brian interjected.

Phlox gave Brian his unnervingly wide smile. "Young man, T'Pol is no demon. She is simply a sentient being from the planet Vulcan, which is an ally of Earth."

"Ally?" said Lancelot pouncing on the word. "Having an ally implies one has enemies, does it not?"

Phlox had studied some of earth's literature and legends in his effort to get to know the people of Earth better. This man, insanely impersonating a legendary Earth literary character...or perhaps actually being this person, nevertheless had a quick intelligence.

Phlox said "Sadly, this is so. The universe with all its star systems and alien civilizations can be a fascinating though dangerous place."

"A dangerous place which is little different from the civilizations just on our world...planet, I would guess then," said Lancelot somewhat disappointed. "You have ships of metal, weapons that belch fire, travel between planets, and cure headaches instantly. My people would consider these to be god-like or magical powers. But you still have allies and enemies just like we do. This is very strange to me and a bit disconcerting. And you say you are from our future? By how many years was that again?"

"About fifteen of your centuries, approximately 1,550 years," said Phlox smiling cheerfully. "And there is nothing god-like or magical about us or our technology. We are sentient beings just like you."

Lancelot stared at Phlox with sadness. "Fifteen centuries and there is still fighting. King Arthur has hopes of eliminating most of the violence from his realm in his lifetime. Apparently violence is more widespread and harder to eliminate than anyone in our time thought." Then Lancelot sighed. "I think we should go to your captain's dining hall now. I really don't think Brian and I should contemplate what you have revealed to us any further on an empty stomach."

"Of course not!" beamed Phlox. "Food would do you both good to get over the shock of your recent experience. Lieutenant Sato will take you there. And don't worry so much, Earth is a lot more peaceful now, I think, than in your time, even with the recent World War III."

"World War? The third one? The whole planet at war, not just a couple of lords within a kingdom? And fought with the kind of weapons you have?" Lancelot looked like he might fall into a shocked condition again. "My god, I would think you would have wiped out our whole race," Lancelot said in an unusually quiet voice.

"You humans almost did just that," said Phlox cheerfully. "But humans are overcoming what the Vulcans and other more advanced technological civilizations consider the primitive human murderous and suicidal psychology, now. Your species is maturing. I look forward to talking with you again and telling you about the social organization on my planet. I believe it is much different from that of your time. For instance, I have four wives and each of them has several husbands. I believe in your time, male and female relationships were not organized so?"

Lancelot looked alarmed. "Each person with several spouses? Are they like that now? On...Earth?"

"No," said Hoshi, giving Phlox a hard look. "Marriage on Earth is between one man and one woman, or between two adults of the same...um, well...marriage among humans today on Earth is somewhat similar to that in your own time. Aliens with varying physical morphology and psychological needs...they organize their cultures differently than humans. But that is a subject for another time, I think."

And she walked toward the sick bay doors which opened for her and said "Follow me, please."

12


	2. Chapter 2

_**A Camelot Knight in Starfleet Command**_

A further adventure in The Adventures of Sir Lancelot

And parody loosely based on A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

By Bineshii

**Chapter 2: Exploring a Star Ship**

"These are your quarters," said Hoshi stopping at a door in a companionway like the one they first found themselves in. Both Lancelot and Brian had no idea where they were in this ship with so many levels and turnings. They looked confused.

"You can change out of your clothing, which is torn and burned." She said as she touched a place on the wall and the door slid open revealing Crewman Holmes laying out on a bunk bed two of those one piece blue outfits. These had no insignia on them.

"We got your sizes from the security scans as you both entered sick bay," the crewman told them as he beckoned them inside.

"Crewman Holmes will show you to the captain's mess after you clean up and change," Hoshi added. "And here," she said, handing them each their own language translating box.

"Thank you,...Hoshi is it? Or Lieutenant Sato?" asked Lancelot.

"Hoshi is fine, Sir. But call me Lieutenant Sato if you want to be more formal. I think you out rank me, even with the incompatibility of our military systems," she smiled as she stepped away from the door which closed automatically when she was outside it.

They walked tentatively around their new quarters, gazing at the sparse furnishings: two bunks, two chairs, two tables set into the walls, with boxes Lancelot now knew were called computers. There was another little room at the side, which Brian was poking into.

"That's the head," explained Crewman Holmes.

"Head?" asked Brian.

Crewman Holmes smiled. "Originally a navy term. A lot of navy terms have transferred into Starfleet. But you are more army types, aren't you? Okay, that is a bathroom."

Brian looked around for the wooden tub, and asked "Where do we get the water? Do we take buckets and lower them down the side of the ship?"

Crewman Holmes raised his eyebrows and thought about this. "Um, the water is already here." He pointed to a pipe coming out of the wall above Brian's head. "Here, let me show you, if you will step back out of the head."

The crewman turned a handle and water sprayed down, gurgling into a drain in the floor. "Turn this way to get it hotter." He turned it back off. "Soap by pushing this button. Toilet here," he said, raising a seat cover.

"Oh, I see you sit on that. Okay," said Brian. "But why is there water in it?"

Crewman Holmes pushed the flush button and Brian jumped back.

"That's how you get rid of the waste."

"Where does it go?" asked Brian.

"It gets recycled just like leftover food and old clothes and practically everything we use on board." He frowned. "Um, I will let Captain Archer and Commander Tucker explain all about that later, okay?" Crewman Holmes smiled, thinking of how Commander Tucker once had to answer 'a poop question' on a video sent back to Earth to an elementary school classroom.

"I will just stay here while you gentleman get familiar with these cleaning facilities and then show you how to change into this clothing. I am sure you will get the idea quickly."

...

Lancelot felt vulnerable without his sword belt, as he followed Crewman Holmes to the captain's mess. But there only seemed to be a few people wearing weapons among the crew that he had seen. The weapons were those small black metal things with handles and short tubes; the things which sprayed fire. He had learned from Hoshi that the armed people were ship security under Commander Reed or people of that other group called MACOS, whose job was to settle conflicts on or off the ship.

He tried to learn the layout of this ship which did not look like a ship but like a labyrinth of steel corridors. It seemed beyond his understanding at this point. However, having cleaned up and changed into 22nd century starship clothes from underwear up, felt comfortable. He glanced at Brian who was following him. The boy almost tripped because he was looking down trying to find all the pockets in the one-piece clothing. Brian looked sheepishly up at him and recovered his footing with those fine new boots they were wearing. The boots they both had on fit perfectly. Everyone was 'sized' for clothing and it was 'replicated' - whatever that meant.

They turned a corner and entered another curved corridor, then stopped in front of another of those identical sliding metal doors. It slid open into a room with one long table at which the captain was sitting with other officers. The captain rose, smiled and nodded at them, then indicated places they were to sit. Only two places were empty, the other places being taken by the blond man, the woman with ear points, and the man who was supposed to be from Britain, who was the only one wearing any weapons. Wearing a weapon at dinner? This was not polite to Lancelot's way of thinking. The man noted Lancelot's pointed stare, grinned, and unbuckled the weapon belt and laid it on a table behind him.

Lancelot nodded, grim faced, at Commander Reed, then turned his attention back to Captain Archer.

The captain addressed them. "I am glad to see you both again. You look unhurt and relaxed. These are my senior officers, Commander T'Pol, second in command of the ship, Commander Tucker, the chief engineer, and Commander Reed, ship's armaments officer."

Once again, Lancelot introduced himself and Brian. The expressions on the faces of the senior officers seemed to indicate that they had heard of Lancelot before somehow, but were skeptical that he was who he said he was.

The captain raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat, then said "Let us sit and eat, then discuss a few things."

The captain sat, and so did everyone else. The eating utensils looked familiar except for the pronged thing that looked like a trident of a Roman god. He had seen such a tool once in a Roman household, but had never used one himself. The captain noticed his perplexed expression, so after plates of meat and vegetables were placed in front of everyone by the captain's steward, the captain used this tool to hold his piece of meat while he cut it. Then he used it to raise a chunk of meat to his mouth. Lancelot and Brian studied this, and copied the captain's movements.

The food tasted good, but was not quite the same as what Lancelot and Brian were used to. The texture and spicing were different. After a few bites, the captain started a diner conversation.

"I understand that coming aboard my ship was not something you intended?"

"No, it was not." Lancelot said. "And I realize that it was not something expected by you or any of your crew."

"True," Captain Archer smiled. "From your description to Dr. Phlox, we think we have identified the aliens who did this. We are having trouble, though, identifying where you actually are from, who you actually are, and WHEN you are actually from."

Lancelot started to respond, but Captain Archer held up a hand. "You do realize that if you are who you say you are, you are a famous historical personage from many centuries in our past?"

Lancelot nodded. He had sensed this from snatches of overheard conversation, from his talk with Dr. Phlox, and from the body language of people.

"Well, if so, it is a priority of mine to return you to your own time."

"Thank you, Captain," said Lancelot. "It is hard for me to understand what has happened to us and why. Returning us to the time and place we were abducted would also be our priority. Is it possible for you to do this?"

"It is possible. But it may be difficult. We know that time travel is possible, and that people moving from one time in history to another, can change history. That is dangerous. There are people who live centuries in our own future who have formed an organization to keep people in their own time period. We are trying to contact one of them who we have met before, called Daniels. He would have the ability to send you back, if anyone could. We, on this ship, do not have that ability. In the meantime, you are our guests and I will give you a tour of the ship so you can find your way from your quarters to areas of the ship where you will be allowed to visit, such as the crew mess hall and my quarters."

The captain stopped talking and looked to be considering something for a moment. Then he said "over time, a civilization develops tools, machines, and weapons which are more and more powerful as the years, the centuries, and millennia, go by. The tools and machines improve people's lives and there is more food and better health which allows people to live longer lives. In general, there is less fighting between neighbors for longer and longer distances. Weapons become capable of killing large numbers of people and fighting is done between larger and larger groups of people. But use of these weapons becomes so frightening that people learn to live more peacefully in cities, kingdoms, and nations. Groups of allied nations develope non-aggression agreements and trade agreements. Eventually on most worlds – planets, a planet wide government is formed and all the people on that world become peaceful with each other. At our time in history, this world government on Earth is over a hundred years old."

"One hundred years of peace?" asked Brian incredulously. "One hundred years is almost forever!"

Lancelot smiled sadly. "I heard from your Dr. Phlox that the world wide war a hundred years ago killed millions of people with terrible weapons."

"True," said Captain Archer. "And, that time of weapons of mass destruction in Earth history has been a critical time in the history of many worlds. It is a point where the weapons are powerful enough to destroy all life on a planet. Some planets are now bare rock with no plant or animal life. They are dead all because a sentient species could not overcome their anger and aggressive tendencies. Our civilization seems to have passed that critical point. Your time period was a step on the way to our success. Your King Arthur made a great step forward in our civilization with his ideas that he developed toward peaceful resolution of problems. You, yourself, played an important part in this and are well remembered in stories and legends. You must be returned to your time to finish your work."

"What if you can't get us back?" asked Brian.

"Then," said Captain Archer, leaning forward, "history may change radically. We might not survive that last world war."

Lancelot and Brian looked at each other with deep concern.

Captain Archer then said, "We may already have changed history, even if we could send you back today. Just knowing what kind of future, what tools and weapons are possible, will change your behavior when you return. Even if you don't try to invent any of the things you see that we have here, you will be doing things even just slightly different then you would if you did not know about them. And something in history will change."

"What if we just stay here? Won't that keep us from changing things?" Brian asked.

"No," said Captain Archer, "because you are both young, so if you stay here, things you have yet to do, that we know about from the legends, won't happen."

"I think I see your dilemma," said Lancelot. "We must go back. We must not try to let what we see here, what we learn here, influence us. Brian, we must take an oath to protect the future. These people could be our many times great, grandchildren."

The senior officers all nodded; the stern expressions on their faces relaxing.

Then Captain Archer picked up a device and aimed it at one wall, saying, "Since I learned what Dr. Phlox has already talked to you about, I thought I would show you some graphics of our solar system and images of our home planet. It is a wonderful world."

Both Lancelot and Brian were awestruck with the beauty of the world that was home to them and to these people, their distant descendants.

...

After the meal and the viewing of the graphics of their home world, Captain Archer took Lancelot and Brian on a tour of the ship. They went past areas where they were told they must not enter. These areas had dangerous machinery that they would not know how to handle. Captain Archer briefly explained warp drive, electric power, and engines driven by petroleum products, in a superficial manner. He mentioned running water and recycling which they already had some acquaintance with. Then they entered the main engine room.

"This looks and sounds like the hell that a Christian monk was trying to explain to me," Brian whispered to Lancelot.

"Brian, it appears more like the forge of Vulcan from Roman tales," Lancelot whispered back. "Stay right beside me and don't touch anything."

"This is the warp engine which drives the ship," Captain Archer explained as he nodded to Commander Tucker who was smiling down at them from one of those meta grid walkways above them.

"Is it...alive?" asked Brian with trepidation noticing the humming and the pulsing of the machinery.

"No," said the captain, "though our chief engineer might disagree with me on this."

Lancelot understood the captain's humor but had to lay a hand on Brian's shoulder to reassure the boy.

They were allowed to walk all the way around the main engine then go up and down metal staircases called 'ladders' and walk along the metal grids which still reminded Brian of loosely woven chainmail that you could look down through. He tried to not feel dizzy.

They left engineering for a quieter companionway and walked to a tiny room called a turbo lift. Inside it, they felt motion and when the door slid open again, they were in a different companionway near a place called a gym, short for gymnasium, a word that Lancelot was familiar with from his knowledge of Latin. Commander Reed showed them around the gym and how to use various physical training machines, while the captain talked to the bridge on one of those wall boxes. Lancelot paid close attention as he wanted to come back later and keep up his own strength and coordination by attempting to use these machines. He made a mental note that Brian should come with him.

"My security people, and the MACOS also, are eager to work out with you two," grinned Commander Reed as they left 'the gym' to continue their tour.

They ended their tour at the mess hall, where Brian stared into glass compartments in the wall where all sorts of foods were displayed.

"Go on, boy, pick one and open it," encouraged the chef who had just shown them a marvelous kitchen which had no smells but had clean and gleaming metal tables and little machines which cut and mixed food. There was no smell because the meats and vegetables were kept in a small room which was so cold Brian shivered when they went in there.

But now, faced with this wall of food behind glass, Brian pulled on what obviously was a handle and the glass door opened. It was cold in the little compartment too, so he withdrew the plate of food quickly. It had something he recognized on it.

"A pot pie, good choice, boy. I thought you might be going for the pecan pie or the piece of carrot cake with cream cheese frosting instead," said chef.

"Cheese?" asked Brian, "Where?"

Chef pointed. Brian got the piece of carrot cake out too, and then turned to see what Lancelot would say. The knight silently mouthed "enough". So Brian decided not to make any more selections and went over to one of the tables and placed his choices on it.

"Go ahead," chef said to Lancelot as the captain made his choice, then picked up a mug and went to a device under which he held the mug and said "coffee".

Lancelot had learned about this device earlier so he followed the captain's example and held up a mug and said "ale" and holding a second mug up said "chocolate milk".

Brian, half way through the pot pie, grinned, knowing Lancelot was bringing him his newly discovered favorite beverage.

"The mess hall is open at any time for you," Captain Archer told them as they sat together at the little table while crew people came and went from other tables around them.

This suited Brian just fine. This was something familiar because having once been a kitchen boy, he felt at home in any kitchen or dining hall.

...

Now familiar with the layout of the ship, Lancelot and Brian were allowed to move around unescorted. Lancelot would slip onto the bridge or into engineering or into the mass hall to observe the senior officers' conversations, now that Hoshi had given him and Brian their own translating devices. Slowly, things he observed and the questions he asked had started to make sense for him of life on a military star ship.

Brian, when Lancelot let him go off on his own, attached himself to Travis Mayweather or one of the younger MACOS. Travis showed him that wild place - the sweet spot, where he could swim through air. He wanted to get better at turning somersaults and bouncing off walls before he told Sir Lancelot about it. Then he planned to take his knight there and show it to him. He wanted to see Lancelot's first reaction to being afloat in air.

Also, Brian wished a couple of his friends in the squires school back at Camelot were here to enjoy this with him. In a way, he was home sick, but in a way, he never wanted to go back. He was learning new hand-to-hand combat techniques in the MACOS practice area, but they were careful to tell him these were techniques from his time, from the Far East. And he attended movie night where visions appeared on a wall with people moving fast in carts without horses pulling them, and riding the sky in all kinds of metal ships. The glass buildings in cities, especially London, fascinated him. No horse droppings in the streets and people were good about throwing garbage into receptacles conveniently located all along the streets. There was so much more of this ship yet to explore. Brian hoped they would not be sent home too soon.

But life on a star ship was not all play and exploration. Lancelot expected Brian to maintain their 6th century weapons and clothes in good order like a proper squire. So Brian attended to clothes washing and mending one day before he joined Travis when the lieutenant went off duty. Travis had promised to show him how to read star charts and lay in courses so a star ship would not bump into any planets or burn up by going through a star.

...

"What was all that racket in the laundry room?" asked Trip Tucker as he passed through the maintenance area companionway on his way to engineering.

"Well," said Hoshi Sato, "I showed Brian how to put clothes in the washer and set the dials for soap and load level."

"Okay, but what did he do to make all that noise I heard earlier?" asked Trip as he peered in through the laundry room door.

"He put his and Lancelot's chainmail vests, metal studded gloves, and metal studded trousers in the washer along with their cloth tunics," said Hoshi while practically gasping with laughter.

Trip laughed too. "So did you set him straight on that?"

"Oh, yes. But I think he was a bit disappointed that our magical cleaning machines had limitations," Hoshi explained. "Do you think you can repair the scratches and dents in the machine?"

Trip sighed. "It seems that lately all I do is follow that kid around the ship repairing things."

"Shall we tell Sir Lancelot about Brian's latest peccadillo?" asked Hoshi.

"Naw," said Trip, thinking about the times he had not told his parents about things his little sister, Lizzie, had done. "Lancelot watches that kid like a hawk and disciplines him like the MACOS do their own."

"Trip, okay, no telling on him, because he IS a kid and messing up is normal," Hoshi said with a frown.

"Not really a kid, Trip said. "In his time period he would be expected to go into battles at his age, even just as an assistant handing weapons to someone else. And he would be a legitimate target for someone to take down with a sword or ax. So I guess MACO style discipline would be appropriate. But Lancelot also treats him like a younger brother or as a father would a son. I guess military rank and relationships were more personal back then in their time."

Hoshi smiled. "The two of them are so personable, but at times they say or do something that reminds me how much they live in a completely different world than we do."

Trip sighed. "Yeah, I know what you mean. After all they have seen here, though, how are they ever to go back to their old lifestyle? The captain is trying to contact Daniels to see if sending them back as soon as possible can be arranged."

...

One afternoon, Lancelot and Brian were left alone in 'their quarters' until what Captain Archer described as evening meal. How were they to tell when it was meal time with no sun in a blue sky above, was Lancelot's first thought. Then he remembered about the clocks. At least he could read the numbers on them, though the writing on the padds and computers was beyond him. It was a foreign language to him. He would have to ask Hoshi if there was a translating device for that too.

The 'sky' outside Jupiter Station was always black with more pinpoints of light than was ever seen in the night sky back home. When they made a test run at warp speed to break in some new warp drive parts, the moving pinpoints of star light were like fireflies gone manic. Lancelot had felt dizzy watching this, so he had turned back and looked around the room again. Dark outside and day-bright inside. This was all wrong. He had blinked, but things did not change.

Brian standing there, also disoriented, was the only familiar thing in this strange new world. Lancelot had sighed and had taken a few steps just to feel that he was awake and not in some fantastic horrifying dream. His steps brought him to that mirror that was as tall as he was. It was like a very still pond showing himself from head to toe.

"Is that really what I look like?" he whispered.

Brian stepped closer and glanced from the mirror to Lancelot and back to the mirror. "It is as I have always seen you, My Lord."

Lancelot tried raising one eyebrow, like that woman with the greenish-brown skin, and rakishly slanting eyebrows, had done. "I do look younger than most of the other Round Table knights. But I look the same age as T'Pol, yet her years number those that I will probably never live to see. 'Sixty-five in your years,' she said. Did you hear that too, Brian?"

"Yes. I heard. Do you think they will fix us so we could live so long? Dr. Phlox said the human lifespan is 120 years in this future time."

"Brian, if we allowed him to do that, we would outlive our own grandchildren. Would you like that?"

"I don't know, Sir Lancelot. Would you want that?"

"I am not certain that I would. You and I are close, but I am not sure I want 70 more years with you, after everyone we now know is gone." Lancelot cocked his head mischievously at Brian.

Brian frowned. "But I will grow up. I won't always be short and clumsy and ignorant about things."

"Brian, I was only teasing. Of course I want you as a life-long companion. You know too much about me for me to push you out of my close circle of associates."

Brian had walked to one of the bunks and sat down with his hands clasped on his knees. Looking at the rug in front of him he said "You always try to reassure me by saying something more which I don't know how to take." Then Brian stared up at Lancelot with those intense blue, blue eyes. "I never want to leave you. I am your vassal and companion for life no matter how long or short that may be."

"I know, Brian. That is about the only thing I am sure of and take solace in at the moment. In this strange new world we must hold to each other not to go insane. And if we ever get home, we two will hold a view of life that no one else would ever understand. This experience will have made us different from everything and everyone we know in our time and in our world. We won't be able to forget it. But we will have to behave like we never knew it will exist in the future of our people."

Brian wondered why they would have to do that but did not respond. He stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes because he didn't want to have to think of anything else before his next meal.

11


	3. Chapter 3

_**A Camelot Knight in Starfleet Command**_

A further adventure in The Adventures of Sir Lancelot

And parody loosely based on A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

By Bineshii

**Chapter 3: Getting to Know the Crew **

After his talk with Brian, Lancelot watched the boy slowly drift off to sleep. So he went to the crew mess hall and tried a mug of this beverage called coffee. He sat at a table by himself at one side of the mess hall sipping the warm brown liquid and watching people come and go. They generally sat with those they came in with but a few joined others who were already sitting at tables. The tone of conversation was informal and quiet, unlike back at Camelot where new arrivals were generally greeted formally and loudly. He was thinking what healthy, happy people these were – no beggars with missing limbs holding out bowls while sitting in the shadows of the castle walls, no threadbare peddlers insistently hawking their wares in muddy streets. But this was a ship where all the crew must have been chosen for their fitness and mostly consisted of young people. It was hard to believe this ship was bigger than most villages and was a community in itself. He hadn't even seen the outside of the ship through images of it on a wall or one little model that the captain had.

Lancelot's musing was broken by someone standing across the table from him.

"May I join you?" asked Crewman Cutler, carrying a small tray of food.

"Oh," said Lancelot, rising and inclining his head slightly. "Of course, My Lady."

The woman smiled sweetly and sat, setting her tray on the table. "Goodness, you don't have to be so formal, I am not the captain, just Crewman Cutler, or, and as I would prefer to be called, Elizabeth."

"Lady Elizabeth, I am Lancelot of the Lake, at your service."

"Oh my, how gallant you are. I don't need any service performed; I just wanted to get acquainted with you. You looked so serious and lonely here all by yourself. Of course I have heard about you from the usual ship scuttlebutt. And I have read the Arthurian legends like everybody else, as a child. We must be a very strange group of people to you. And it is just plain Elizabeth, really."

Lancelot thought for a moment before he answered, for indeed he was still trying to sort out how to deal with people here, let alone not make any wrong turnings down the vast corridors of this ship.

He smiled, the smile he used with ladies that he was interested in. "Elizabeth," he pronounced her name with care, "people are people, everywhere, and every place in time, I should think. At least that is what I have been discovering. What do you do on this ship?"

"I am a crewman, first class. I work in ship's maintenance, changing out computer parts and small motor repair like kitchen appliances. But I am doing some cross training with Dr. Phlox as a medical assistant in sick bay. Most of us on the ship cross-train; it keeps us flexible for emergencies."

Lancelot was fascinated that a person like this, equivalent to a seamstress or a blacksmith's assistant, would approach him - a knight who sat at the captain's table for meals, with her lack of timidity and total friendliness.

"That is very interesting work," he said. "I now know what rooms here you would work in but I am afraid I am ignorant of the skills involved."

Back at home, he would have known the details of any person's work from tillers of the soil to the negotiations of kings.

"Your world is so...technically complex. In my time, machines, if you could call them that, have maybe four or five parts. Here you have machines with millions of parts. How can I express this...it stretches my mind to conceive of it."

Just then, Dr. Phlox strode across the room with a mug in his hand and scraped back a chair, sat, and plunked the mug down on the table. "May I join you?"

"It seems you already have," said Lancelot, surprised and slightly annoyed.

"Elizabeth," Phlox continued, "when you feed my bat today, only half ration please. He seems a bit listless and may be entering his hibernation phase."

"Of course, Doctor. And the leeches, am I to separate them into two tanks? There are so many of them now."

"They are not really leeches, not like the ones on your world. No, do not separate them. They thrive in crowds."

"Leeches?" asked Lancelot. "Now there is something medical that I am familiar with."

"Oh?" said Phlox. "Ah, yes. Well, my leeches are not the primitive life form your Earth leeches are. Mine are medically useful, unlike yours. Civilizations, it seems, have to go through a lot of experimentation with useless so called cures until they discover how biology really works, humm?"

"If you say so, Doctor Phlox," said Lancelot. "But I am not going to say that to Merlin who swears by them, or Queen Guinevere, who oversees our healers in Camelot – if and when I get back."

"That would be highly prudent," Phlox beamed. "They probably would not believe you anyway."

"Yes, I am a soldier, not a healer," grinned Lancelot, though he was extremely curious about Phlox's knowledge of human and alien physiology. The differing life spans of sentient species and the ability to extend these life spans was terribly interesting.

"Well, back to work," said Elizabeth, rising from the table. "Please don't get up, Sir Lancelot."

Lancelot, who had started to rise, sat back down.

"Me too. Must return to sick bay. Come by for a visit any time," said Phlox who rose and walked off chatting with Elizabeth.

"I think that I will come for a visit. Or two," Lancelot said quietly.

Lancelot took another sip of the coffee. It seemed to elevate his energy level, but he did not like the taste. It was better with something called sugar to sweeten it. But this sugar was not from beats, it was from sugar cane which grew in another part of his world that he had never heard of. He returned to watching people, a little envious of their informality and ease of use of advanced technology. They seemed to have no personal problems. Were they all so happy in this time period? Even with the horrifying weapons that they seemed to live with without great concern?

...

Lancelot and Brian where getting used to the routines on the ship. They were developing a habit of visiting 'the gym' once a day and hanging around Malcolm and his security people and the MACOS. These were more like the people they hung out with back home. The weight machines did help to keep their conditioning up. And practice in hand-to-hand techniques was not only good exercise, but educational. These types of skills were familiar to all of them and they were sharing new moves with each other.

Amanda Cole, the female head of the MACOS, was amazed at how short humans were centuries before her birth.

"You're pretty tough for a little guy," Amanda grinned between bouts with Lancelot.

Lancelot took a moment to control his temper. "Yes, Mam. My world is a dangerous place."

"So's mine," quipped Amanda. "At least the places in it that I choose to go."

Lancelot nodded and dropped back into his wrestler's crouch. He would try another couple of moves of his own before he asked Amanda to show him the one that she had used to slam his back down into the mat. It had taken him several falls before he understood it was okay to fight back and wrestle with a woman.

During a break, as they toweled sweat away, Amanda told Lancelot about the Xindi attack on Earth.

"five million people? I doubt there were five million people on all of Earth in my time!" said a shocked Lancelot.

"There were actually 300 million in your time, from estimates. There are ten BILLION on Earth in our time," Amanda informed him. "I thought the question would come up during our conversations, so I looked it up."

"Very astute of you," said Lancelot. "So your town was missed by this giant ray from space but Commander Tucker's town was turned into a hole in the ground?"

"Part of a deep trench hundreds of miles long. The ocean filled it in. Trip's sister was killed, but the rest of his family was away from their home town at the time."

"My god. And these Xindi, there is now peace with them? Did your ship do equal damage to their planet?"

"No, we only stopped them from doing more damage to our planet. And now they want to join this alliance we have with three other worlds. But even though they said they are sorry and it was a mistake based on lies told by another group of aliens they used to be allied with, the Earth government says an alliance with them will be considered maybe a hundred years from now when most of the people who lost family in the attack have passed away."

"No retaliation? Well, I guess humans have learned to control their aggression better than in my time. That gives me much to think about."

They returned to their practice, but Lancelot wanted to talk to Captain Archer about this attack and the people of Earth's response to it. The captain being much higher in rank than this woman-at-arms, might be able to give him more insight. And Commander Tucker had lost an innocent sister who he was very close too, Amanda had said. Tucker was still grieving, she informed him. Maybe people in this time did have some emotional trauma like people in his own time.

...

The door to Captain Archer's quarters slid open for Lancelot and he stepped in, glancing around at the images on the wall. Ships. And on the computer, some sort of water play with a ball."

"Water polo," the captain said, indication a guest chair. He turned off the computer.

"I enjoy our visits. Would you like some coffee?"

"No thank you, Captain. I am curious about this Xindi attack on Earth. Amanda Cole said the damage, that trench, could be seen from out in space."

Archer leaned back in his chair and sighed. "That is so."

"And I heard that your ship stopped further attacks alone. And that you personally negotiated with some of the aggressors, making it possible to stop other aggressors who wanted to destroy the Earth. Yours seems a very superior war ship to be acting along against a civilization of aliens."

"True, we did that alone, but the logistics warranted it. But our ship is not just a war ship. We and the other Starfleet ships were meant to be ships of peaceful exploration. Of course we have always been armed, and even better armed now after that attack on our home world. The Vulcans, our mentors, warned us that the universe was a dangerous place. In fact, for a hundred years they tried to slow our progress in warp technology development because they thought our species was not psychologically ready to control our aggressive tendencies. They thought we would either misuse our new technology to hurt other species or be wiped out by a more advanced species as the Xindi tried to do."

Lancelot thought this treatment of different alien species as inferior or superior sounded like those Vikings who had kidnapped him and Brian and called them a lesser breed worth only of enslavement. He was disappointed that the universe had not overcome this practice. So he commented "The Vulcans again. You have a Vulcan on your crew. She is your second in command."

"She has been here since our first mission on this ship. At first, she was little more than a spy, but she defied her own people and is one of us now. I trust her with my life. I even trust her with my ship."

Lancelot smiled. "I see you place your ship's safety above your own."

"Any captain worth his rank does. Besides, it is powered by the engines my father invented."

"Then he must be proud of the way you made use of them."

Captain Archer's face became sad. "Yes, I think he would have been if he had lived to see them put to use. I used to blame the Vulcans for him not living to seeing that. They delayed us, did everything they could to slow our warp development. Their sense of the passage of time is different. Vulcans have longer life spans than humans. At one time, I was very angry about this. Now, I accept that their intention was to help us, even if misguided."

Lancelot was impressed with the circumspection of this man in the face of a great personal loss. If most people were this thoughtful in this future time, the human species had indeed progressed to greater emotional control. Lancelot though of something else he wished to learn about.

"This alliance, and talk of a future binding of worlds into a federation, is this in defense of something? Are there other enemies now that the Xindi are no longer a threat?"

"Very perceptive of you, Sir Lancelot. Indeed there are. There are hostile worlds, even empires of worlds that sadly, seem bent on conquest of all the worlds they can reach. The Klingon Empire is one such. In fact, the first mission of my ship was to help a wounded Klingon who had been chased by an enemy of theirs, right onto our own planet. We returned this wounded Klingon to his home world, but there seemed to be only grudging gratitude from the Klingons. I would say, from your earlier experience, the Klingons have been visiting Earth for centuries. Fortunately not in large numbers. Until now, we have been of little interest to them."

"So they are a threat now?"

"Not openly. They do have spies on our world, I am sure."

"So that is your only worry?"

"No. Some aliens called the Romulans, from what we hear through our intelligence agents, are concerned about the alliance we are making. They think we are getting too powerful and we think they may try a surprise attack. So Vulcan, Earth, Andoria, and Tellar are pooling their resources, cooperating in sharing technology to build ships to repel any attack. We are experimenting with defensive ships of mixed species crews. And we have built up trade networks."

"I see. Well I do hope you succeed and that one day, these hostile empires will be peaceful."

"That seems to be the way of the universe, Sir Lancelot, larger and larger groups of sentient beings living at peace. At least it is a worthy goal."

"King Arthur would agree with that. I think he would be proud of that."

"He was one of the people from our history who started us along the path to peace."

Lancelot nodded. He was more than ever proud of his king.

...

They had been three weeks now, on the ship. Captain Archer had tried a second time to contact Daniels through a device the time agent had left him, without success. Lancelot and Brian were starting to discuss what their options were if they could never be sent home. The captain told them if Daniels did not respond within another two weeks, the two of them would be sent planet-side to live in the Britain of this time period. The _Enterprise_ had an upcoming mission outside the solar system and it would not be safe for them to go along. Malcolm Reed told them not to be disappointed to find nothing left that might be familiar to them in their homeland accept maybe the ruins of a Roman bath house in the town of Bath.

Brian was disappointed about not going on this upcoming mission because it would involve visiting both Vulcan and Andoria. He was studying hard in the basics of navigation that Travis was teaching him and did not tell Sir Lancelot about this, as he wanted it to be a surprise. Brian was big on surprises. He also wandered into engineering and asked Trip Tucker about things he had overhead concerning the different kinds of engines driven by steam power or petroleum derivatives. He was shocked to hear that the black stuff that bubbled out of bogs back home could take the technology of a civilization to a whole new level.

If he had to live his life here, Brian decided he wanted to be an engineer like Trip Tucker, even though he felt closer, personally, to Travis. Travis and he talk about things like whether he was the same person because he was reassembled with different elements in his body when he was transported here. Trip Tucker was more about the details of technical stuff than the psychological effects of machines like Travis speculated about. And Travis talked about the concept of evolution – in bio systems and in culture and technology. Brian asked Travis about ways to shorten the typical pattern of evolution in technology that most worlds went through. Ideas about this made him glad that Merlin had told him all about the Greeks and the rudiments of the discipline of science.

Lancelot made comments to Hoshi Sato about the lack of color on the ship, even though the computer showed a template with hundreds of color shades. When she showed him images from the Earth of architecture, works of art, and clothing styles showing a wide variety of color, he was enchanted. He also started visiting Dr. Phlox more to hear exciting things about the complexity of the human body. If he was to be stranded in this time, he thought he would like to continue being a warrior, but he would get training to become a warrior who fought disease and helped people live pain free and longer lives.

If they had to stay in this future time, it looked as if the many options available might draw Lancelot and Brian in different directions.

...

Escorted, Brian and Lancelot were allowed to visit Jupiter Station when the _Enterprise_ was moored between tests of upgrades of system components in near-Earth space. They found the food in the Vulcan and Andorian restaurants not much to their liking, but the Tellarite amusement center, which Amanda Cole said was holographic technology, fascinated them. Lancelot taught Amanda a bit of sword play in what she described as a simulated medieval environment. Then they went to the science and natural history museum, a small place which depended on holographics too, and was called a Smithsonian Institute Extension Site.

The curator of the museum, a short balding man who spoke rapidly with an annoying lisp, was enthralled with Brian. The boy had put on his chainmail, sword, and eating knife because Amanda had told him about the simulator where they would 'go back to his time'. Lancelot had decided not to bring his own gear as Amanda had also said that clothing and weapons would be part of the simulation. When Lancelot and Amanda had walked on to other museum displays, the curator grabbed Brian by the wrist and pulled him into his small office.

"Now, boy, these artifacts that you are wearing, are they really from your time?"

"Of course, Sir," Brian said. "And this extra tunic of mine still has dirt on it from my world as I did not put it in that magic cleaning machine with our other clothes."

The Curator's eyes gleamed with greed. "Now, boy, how would you like to make a trade, eh? I have a kit that you can make a real working steam engine with. See, right here. And how about a small really working gasoline engine? I paid close attention to your questions as we went through the history of technology hall."

"Well, I think it would be alright," Brian said eagerly. "Sir Lancelot gave me this eating knife, but I could always get another one back home. Not my sword though, or my chainmail vest because it took me all winter to make it. But since I am still growing, I have this section of chainmail that I am using for a belt that I had planned to extend my vest with. I could give you that."

The man's eyes lit up even more. He knew what Brian was offering him was worth a fortune because it could be authenticated by experts.

"Okay, boy. You may have these kits."

Brian was scratching a bit. There were fleas in the tunic which he hadn't washed yet. And now the curator was starting to scratch.

"Sorry," said Brian, "these fleas, they jump from person to person. I think I picked them up at Sir Ector's castle. I was wearing both tunics because it was cold the night we were abducted, but I only washed the one."

"Fleas? Genuine medieval fleas? May I have the tunic too? I will give you a museum souvenir T-shirt to wear back to the ship."

"Okay," said Brian, "but the fleas will get on that too, because they are on me already."

"Tell you what, boy, I have these magic bracelets. I will give you one and perhaps that will solve the problem."

The curator dug into a drawer in his desk and removed a magic bracelet from a package of them. Brian tried it on. It was a little large but there was a way to adjust it.

"Thank you!" Brian said. As he left the office minus his knife and belt, he saw that the curator must love his pet cat very much because the animal was sitting on a chair wearing a bracelet just like his, but around his neck.

Elsewhere in the museum, having seen the march of centuries in the museum displays had put Lancelot into a pensive mood. He went off by himself and slipped into the hydroponics garden. He was thinking about this Prime Directive that seemed to be bound to become one of the alliance of planet's chief rules, according to the 'on to the future' museum display. Pre-warp civilizations were not to be contacted by post-warp civilizations because it might destroy their life cycle. This was a novel assumption, at least for Lancelot. The assumption was that everything had a life cycle whether it was a living thing or not – everything from a tree to a planet to cultures and technology. Anything could grow, stagnate, and then decline.

Lancelot had tentatively grasped this from his talks with Captain Archer in the context of why he and Brian should be returned to their time period as soon as possible. He understood decline from what was happening to the Roman civilization which had been retreating from Britain. And he now had from this museum curator, a term for what a small change in the past could mean to the future: butterfly effect.

Lancelot was sitting next to a pool into which a small waterfall was plashing. It was a nice background for deep thoughts. From the museum, Lancelot saw how long it took for the march of history to go forward from hunting and gathering cultures to the human invention of warp drive. It had been a near thing, the destruction of Earth by its own people and then by aliens. That scar in that peninsula called Florida had burned itself into his psyche. A catastrophe like this must not happen because of anything he or Brian did. It must not.

...

Lancelot sat on his bunk and held the knife across his knees, applying the wet stone. It had been days since he had done any maintenance on the personal equipment that he carried with him since he was a young boy. The door slid open and Brian came in, excitement all over his face. Lancelot put down the eating knife he was sharpening and watched as Brian went to the computer and tried to turn it on. Lancelot waited for the reaction.

Glancing at Lancelot, Brian asked "What's wrong with it? From Travis I got an idea about how we can shorten the time we will be using steam power and go right on to gasoline engines once we use steam drills to extract the petroleum from deep in the Earth. I want to research exactly how we can design a steam engine for that."

"There is nothing wrong with the computer, Brian. I have asked Captain Archer to turn ours off."

"But why?" asked Brian in the high range of his voice which had been breaking lately, in the early stages of becoming his adult male voice.

"Because Captain Archer has finally heard from Daniels and he is coming here soon to see about sending us home. And because it is wrong for us to learn these things of the future. We should not know technology that is not of our time unless we ourselves invent it. I think it was other minds than yours or mine which did the inventing that led to what you see on this ship. You and I are soldiers. From what little I know of the future legends surrounding us, we only help King Arthur with his marvelous ideas of fairness and justice. These ideas will be passed down the generations after us and help advance our civilization."

Lancelot leaned forward on the bunk and clasped his hands tightly.

"I don't want to know any more than that we are important to this effort. I don't want to know who I will marry, if I ever do, what children I will have, when I will die or how I will die. All this about me is in the legends, though there are conflicting stories about it according to Captain Archer. I don't want to know any of them. He agrees with me on this. And I agree with him that I should not learn the details of any technology that we just might put into use before its time. We will not be taking back any samples of the technology of the future and tinkering with it. We will certainly not tell Merlin, for he would pounce right on it and might have us making weapons hundreds of years before we could psychologically deal with them. He and the other technical wizards of our time could probably really do it, you know."

Lancelot looked straight at Brian with that look of determined finality that Brian knew so well.

Brian stared back at Lancelot, very put out and on the verge of real anger. "I too saw those moving pictures of those planets which destroyed themselves with nuclear bombs, just like you saw them. Knowing the dangers, don't you think we humans are smart enough to prevent that? How could you reject all the great technology we could have right now! Imagine no more women dying in childbirth! No more men dying of ugly painful sword wounds! Enough food so no one starves to death!"

"Brian, there is a mental growth, a political and social growth that has to happen for a people to deal with these things. Do you think people like Urgan the Strong and King Marhaus are capable of that growth?"

"No, not them. But King Arthur could handle it!"

"But can King Arthur handle all the Urgan the Strong's and the King Marhaus's of our time?"

Brian did not answer. He turned his back on Lancelot and laid his head on his arms on the computer desk. Lancelot stood up and went over to the boy. He laid a hand on Brian's shoulder. Brian didn't say anything and didn't move. He knew when Lancelot was serious enough about something that no amount of wheedling would move him, but he was not yet ready to accept it.

Lancelot sighed and left their quarters to walk the companionways of the ship and further contemplate all that had happened to them since their abduction. With what he had learned in the last couple of days, he revised his opinion about these people on this star ship being all very happy and to be envied. They had emotional problems as vexing as those of people in his time. He now understood that phrase Captain Archer mentioned which was from a century long after his but long before Archer's: the more things change, the more they remain the same.

...

Brian could not remain long in a black mood. It wasn't in his nature and the boy was a very forgiving sort, at least to those he was close to. So with a grin, he coaxed Lancelot into joining him at another place on the ship which he had discovered.

Pushing up the hatch, Brian signaled Lancelot to precede him.

"What IS this place, Brian? It looks to me like one of those maintenance spaces we were told not to access," said Lancelot frowning.

"Travis brought me here. He said it was okay for me to show it to you. Just boost yourself through this round hole and then standing on the floor, jump up."

"What?" asked Lancelot, looking around as he stood on the floor of this small room. "This is an empty chamber going way up to nothing at all, just a high ceiling with another hatch up there. I can't jump high enough to reach that. What is this all about, Brian?"

Brain gave that mischievous smile of his. "Just try it, My Lord."

Lancelot was feeling that this was foolish, but since only Brian was watching, he bent his knees and jumped. He sailed up - more than the power of his jump would have suggested. He didn't come down from his jump and in almost panic, flayed his arms and legs. This made him spin sideways then tumble...still rising up.

"Ouch! Damn it! Brian! What on Earth!"

He had bumped his head on the upper hatch.

"Not on Earth. On Earth, Travis said, it is gravity that keeps us down," said Brian, effortlessly rising and stopping himself easily just under the upper hatch. "It is like this outside the ship, in space, Travis said. No gravity. No pull in a downward direction on your body."

"You could have told me, Brian!" said Lancelot, bumping his elbow against a wall which sent him caroming against another wall which sent him backward. "How do you stop?"

"Make slower movements, My Lord."

"Fine. I think I am starting to get it."

"You will learn it faster than I did since you have better coordination. You seem to be adjusting already. I spent two hours up here practicing."

"Okay, Brian. I know that you are getting back at me for turning off the computer."

"No, My Lord. I planned this before you did that. I guess I will have to think of something else to get you back at you for turning off the computer," grinned Brian. "Now where did I store that pea shooter?"

Lancelot glared at Brian. Then he broke into uncontrollable laughter which almost sent him spinning off in this strange place again.

Brian tried to repress his own laughter when Lancelot grabbed him by both shoulders and sent him spinning in a circle. The effort sent Lancelot spinning too, both of them laughing too hard to regain control for a couple of minutes. They had not had so much fun together since before they had been abducted to this star ship.

13


	4. Chapter 4

_**A Camelot Knight in Starfleet Command**_

A further adventure in The Adventures of Sir Lancelot

And parody loosely based on A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

By Bineshii

**Note: **Since a story reviewer kindly pointed out a couple of historical inaccuracies, I have been watching more closely not to let such things slip by. Suspension of disbelief is what science fiction and fantasy shoot for, and actually, what all fiction tries to give readers. Corrections as well as compliments are useful to a writer, so please continue to leave both for your hopeful fan fiction writers!

**Chapter 4: A Warrior is a Warrior is a Warrior **

She walked past him on her way to the bridge. Not much left to the imagination in that form-fitting uniform for any woman, he thought. The clothes he had seen in videos of civilian woman back on the Earth of this time were more colorful and flattering, as were ladies' gowns in his own time. Malcolm Reed's comment during physical training in the gym about T'Pol's very nice bum seemed a bit rude to polite courtly conversation, though it was not as rough as some of the appreciation comments about the fair sex that he had overheard around the firesides of the common men-at-arms of his own time.

She must have noticed him watching her for she turned back to confront him.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Sir Lancelot?"

What an exquisitely lovely face, he thought. And embarrassed at being caught watching her, he said "You are going to the bridge? I just thought...would you mind me watching what goes on there while a star ship is underway? I have only been there while the ship has been moored at Jupiter Station."

She cocked her head slightly and a shadow of a smile played across her face. That was as much of an expression as he had ever seen on her. He knew from more than one person that Vulcans thought it rude to show emotion in public. What a pity. She could charm any male into infatuation with that face by using a little expression, probably even charm Brian who still avoided her.

"Certainly. Follow me," she said, turning and briskly heading for the turbo lift.

An economy of words as well as facial expressions, he thought, as he followed her.

On the bridge, he took a seat next to Malcolm Reed's station. Malcolm was there, fiddling with something on his console.

"I'm adjusting some targeting sensors, Sir Lancelot. Care to watch a little target practice in the asteroid belt?"

Lancelot smiled. "Yes, I would. What weapons today?"

"Photon torpedoes. Much reduced power in these practice war heads, though. Don't want to rattle the miners in the next section over, even though they are a thousand miles away."

"Of course not," chortled Lancelot, thinking this had been a good day to visit the bridge. He glanced around. Travis Mayweather was at his station and of all people, Brian was perched on one of those temporary folding chairs next to Travis.

"Well hello, Brian," Lancelot said loudly to get the lad's attention.

Brian jumped and turned. "Sir Lancelot! What brings YOU to the bridge?" he said as if discovered doing something he shouldn't be doing.

"Why, Brian, I'm just here to keep an eye on you," Lancelot said in his teasing voice.

"Okay, ready," said Travis, moving a viewer and keypad on its arm, over to Brian. "Take over."

Brian glanced at Lancelot again. His mentor had an uncanny way of knowing when he, Brian, was up to something. "I'm not memorizing details of technology to take back to our time, My Lord. Only a little ship driving when it is on a straight path with no obstacles in the way. Honestly, this is nothing I could take back home and put to use."

"Of course not, Brian." Lancelot was smiling. "Go ahead. This should be interesting. Um, Commander Reed? What is the procedure for bridge visitors in case of an unforeseen collision of the ship with some object in space?"

Malcolm caught the humor in Lancelot's voice and smiled. Brian pouted and turned back to his view screen.

Lancelot scanned the other stations around the bridge. Hoshi Sato looked bored with no COMS traffic at the moment. But T'Pol, in the captain's chair, looked like she had been born to command. Lancelot's eyes lingered on her and he sighed. Hoshi was pretty, but T'Pol was a man's dream. Lancelot reminisced about yesterday when entering the crew's mess and he had spotted T'Pol alone at a table with a stack of padds and a mug of that tea she was so fond of. She had been reading intently when he strode brazenly over to her table with a mug of the same mint tea and sat down. Just like Dr. Phlox would have done.

"Good morning, Commander," he had said.

She had looked up, one luscious eyebrow raised. "Good morning, Sir Lancelot. I see you like mint tea too."

Good choice, he thought, tea instead of coffee for a conversation opener. He had put on his best flirting smile and leaned just a touch toward her. "Do the women on this ship ever wear anything but uniforms, even off duty?"

"Not often," she said. "Even off duty, we can be called back to our stations in an emergency. It is not practical to wear anything else on board. Rarely, we will have a theme party where costumes of some sort are appropriate."

"I see," said Lancelot, "do you have any of these parties scheduled soon? I would dearly like to see the fine ladies of this ship in more flattering outfits."

T'Pol leaned back and set down the padd she had been holding. She was studying him in a way that made a pleasant sensation wash over him. His impulse was to reach over and touch her hand, but he knew better. Vulcans did not like that.

He smiled and said "Do you, yourself, dance at these parties? Not that manic kind of thing that passes for popular dancing, but that more stately kind of dancing, that waltzing, that I saw on one of your movie nights?"

"At times. But only with my adun."

"Your...what?"

"My husband. Commander Tucker."

Lancelot would not have liked the look on his stricken face, had he been able to see it.

"You..you are married? To a human?"

"Yes. I know interspecies marriages are not common, especially with Vulcans, but they do occur, Sir Lancelot." She tried to smile a little to dissipate his obvious shock.

He recovered well. He tried for a smile, but it came across as a bit tight. "Oh well, nice try anyway. You must get a lot of attempts by men trying to get closer to you, as you are a very beautiful woman."

"I will take that as a compliment, Sir Lancelot, but now I must return to the bridge," she rose and started gathering up her padds.

He had said "your hands are full, leave your mug and I will return it to the used dishes station when I finish my tea."

"That would be helpful, thank you. I will see you later."

And she was off.

Lancelot sighed and took a sip of the mint tea, which was very good. He was thinking that this was becoming a pattern with him – a woman who took his breath away, one that he could actually see himself with, and she turned out to be married to another man - a man he respected greatly, like this Commander Tucker.

A loud message blared over Hoshi's com system and startled Lancelot out of his reverie.

"Any station, any station! This is foreman Briscoe on Asteroid K-10. We are under attack! Klingons! There are casualties! They have taken over mine shaft 23B!"

The message cut off abruptly with a scream.

T'Pol hit a button saying "Captain to the bridge."

Travis took back the steering station from Brian, saying "laying in a course for Asteroid K-10."

Captain Archer burst out from his ready room and he took the chair from T'Pol who rushed to her science station.

"That mine is the only location we have found in the solar system that has those dilithium crystals which Starfleet engineering research says could one day augment warp drive engines." T'Pol informed the captain.

"Noted." Captain Archer responded. "Travis, what is our ETA to this mine?"

"At impulse power, twenty minutes. Can't use warp drive this close to the asteroid field," said Travis, with Brian looking over his shoulder to see how the ship was now being maneuvered expertly toward the asteroid field and entering it.

"A potential problem, Captain," said T'Pol sharply, "between the volatile explosive materials they mine with, the uneven magnetic field of the asteroid, and the dilithium dust in the shafts, paths of energy weapon emissions cannot be determined, making accurate targeting impossible and unpredictable explosions likely. Projectile weapons are not much better. Use of bludgeoning and edged weapons is recommended."

"Noted. And as the closest ship, we must respond," said Captain Archer, "what bludgeoning and edged weapons do we have, Malcolm?"

"Night sticks and knives," said Malcolm, "and our hand-to-hand techniques."

T'Pol looked up from her screen. "From my scans, there appear to be only four Klingons, three in the mine shaft and one aboard a recently decloaked small ship."

"Two squads of six each, coming from different directions should be able to handle it," Malcolm suggested.

Captain Archer glanced at Malcolm. "Do it."

"I'm on it, Captain. Sergeant Cole is assembling a squad of MACOS as we speak and I would like to take a squad of my own security people."

"Do so. Have you identified beam in points, T'Pol?" asked the captain.

"Not advisable, Captain," she said. "Too much rock to beam through so there could be some distortion on reassembly due to the conditions that make energy weapons unadvisable."

"Use the shuttle pods, Malcolm," the captain barked.

Malcolm got up to leave the bridge as Lancelot addressed the captain "Let Brian and I go too. This is the kind of fighting we are used to. We have been training with your people. We could be very useful."

Malcolm paused, looking at his captain. The captain looked from Malcolm to Lancelot and said, "this is a highly irregular suggestion, though no doubt our guests have the necessary military skills. I don't like risking people that should be returned in good health to their own time. And I certainly cannot authorize a child going into a tactical situation."

"Sir, I am willing to take the risk. You have been a gracious host and I would like to repay you in some way." Lancelot was leaning forward gripping the railing in front of him with tense anticipation.

"Me too! I am not a child!" shouted Brian. "Sir Lancelot needs me!"

Captain Archer nodded, "Okay. This may not hold up at Starfleet Command, but I will give Lancelot a temporary commission as an ally who has been an observer on my ship from another...military establishment. But in all good conscience, I can't commission a fourteen year old boy."

"Commission accepted!" Both Lancelot and Malcolm said. And Malcolm added "under my command!" as he looked pointedly at Lancelot.

Lancelot nodded curtly, and began following Malcolm to the turbo lift. On reaching the lift, Lancelot turned and said "as a commissioned officer in Starfleet, I am allowed to choose my own staff?"

Captain Archer nodded his head reluctantly and said "yes," suspecting what was coming and unable to think of a way to counter it.

It came.

"Brian. You are with me," said Lancelot as he entered the lift.

Brian leaped toward the turbo lift, knocking over his chair to get there just before it closed.

...

The away teams were assembling in the shuttle bay. A crewman came in awkwardly carrying chainmail vests, swords, gauntlets, and other 6th century equipment he had been sent to collect from their guests' quarters. Lancelot and Brian began putting these on as soon as the crewman dumped them on the deck.

A bemused Amanda Cole glanced at them while clipping on her own weapons belt. "I don't suppose you have any extra swords?"

Lancelot smiled grimly "If I had had the foresight, when I saw that strange light in the night from that Klingon ship wreck from the battlements of Sir Ector's castle, that I would have to arm 22nd century star ship women-at-arms, I would certainly have grabbed an extra sword or two. But that stick hanging from your belt and that knife look useful enough."

Amanda grinned. "Wish I had a bat'leth, that is a Klingon version of a sword. It has a curved handle, the ends of which hold a blade with multiple points."

Amanda sketched the Klingon weapon on the dust coated side of shuttle pod one. "It is held two-handed, but can be tossed from hand to hand and spun. They have a nasty short knife too."

Lancelot studied the drawing with a practiced eye from experience with many types of bladed weapons. "That weapon appears to have a much shorter reach than my sword, unless held by one end where the blade joins the curved handle."

"They do that too, and probably will, when faced with your weapon."

"It looks like their grip that way would be weaker than my sword grip. Are you taking note, Brian?"

Amanda broke in before Brain could respond. "You are correct, at least from the one time I was confronted with a bat'leth. But beware that the average Klingon is twice as strong as the average human. It will be human speed and tactics that will prevail. We know bat'leth basic tactics and I doubt they know sword tactics, so that could be an advantage. I will explain a few Klingon tactics on our way in the shuttle pod."

The MACO squad and the security squad scrambled into the shuttle pods as the engines were being warmed up. Amanda showed Lancelot and Brian how to buckle into the safety harnesses. As soon as the shuttle pods left the ship, the _Enterprise _was off to confront the Klingon ship.

Malcolm warned his team about the light gravity on the asteroid before they bumped to a landing. At least the shuttle's hatch was close to the mine entrance so their bouncy steps only carried them up to bumping the rough cut ceiling as they entered the shaft.

"The MACOs are entering through the hole drilled for extraction of ore and will have to climb down that," Malcolm informed his team. "We must move swiftly or the Klingons will be gone if the captain is unable to disable their ship. And it is likely my team will engage the Klingons before the MACOs arrive to help. Malcolm moved off running down the shaft.

An eighth of a mile in, Malcolm held up his hand. He had come upon the alcove where the COMs equipment was and the body of Briscoe, the mining foreman who had made the distress call.

Crouching and silently moving forward toward a wide opening, Malcolm noticed he was looking down on a large chamber with mining equipment and the bodies of at least five miners. Three Klingons were working frantically to wrench crystals from the mine walls inexpertly with hand tools. They had boxes of extracted crystals piled on a platform under the vertical shaft through which Malcolm expected the MACOs to emerge from soon.

Malcolm looked around for another way down to the floor of the open space. Their boots would ring on the metal stairway which was in full view if the Klingons.

"Back there," said crewman Alpert, pointing to a switchback of ramps with rails running down it which was partly hidden from the Klingons by a curve in the rock wall. There was an empty rail car parked near the top, full of tailings. "This must be the way they get the waste rock out a cheaper way than by expensive transporter."

"Follow me, then," said Malcolm, "and watch your step, don't roll any loose stones."

The bottom of the switchback ramps came out fifty feet from the Klingons who were intent on filling their boxes with crystals. While the Klingons did not quite have their backs to the security team, the angle was such that they might be able to get within ten feet before being seen.

"Okay," said Malcolm, "Lancelot, I, and Brian will take the Klingon to the left, Alpert, Carter, Meadows, take the one walking toward the boxes, the rest of you – take the one working at the wall over there. Brian, stay behind me and get that bat'leth on the ground. Alpert, try to get the other bat'leths before they are picked up. Ready?"

All of them were.

"Go!"

To no one's surprise, the Klingons spotted them when they were fifteen feet and two were able to snatch up two of their bat'leths. Lancelot thrust his sword in an uppercut across the wrist of one Klingon as he grabbed his bat'leth that was hanging from a protrusion on the wall. Bleeding, the Klingon took the usual two-handed grip on his bat'leth at the top of the curve. Lancelot moved in, his sword reach indeed longer than the bat'leth held that way and sliced a foot long rip in the Klingon's shirt across his belly. The Klingon roared and took a grip on a long end of the bat'leth to counter the advantage of Lancelot's sword reach and slashed downward at the shorter man. Stepping agility to one side, Lancelot avoided the bat'leth and went for a cut up under the Klingon's arm. The Klingon jumped back and glancing quickly to his left, saw his partners fully engaged with others.

Malcolm was trying to get behind Lancelot's Klingon with a bludgeon in one hand and his combat knife in his other hand. The Klingon struck backward with his elbow, catching Malcolm in the side of the head. Malcolm stumbled back, hitting his head on the rock wall, and slid down it. Seeing that Malcolm was incapacitated, at least temporarily, the Klingon returned his attention to Lancelot, who was almost upon him with a strike down over his chest. He parried this by raising the bat'leth and the clash of metal rang out. They held each other off with their weapons, a contest of strength now. Lancelot's arms began to shake and he jumped back.

The Klingon's face became grim as he studied his opponent more carefully. The human was fast, but one good blow with Klingon strength could end it, he thought. He feinted to Lancelot's left side, then to the right. The human did not take the bait. So the human had been in combat before, the Klingon realized. Taking this human down would be a worthy accomplishment, for the Klingon was sure he would succeed. But the Klingon had not reckoned with Malcolm recovering and on him with a strong smack to the back of his head. The Klingon's knees buckled only slightly, but Lancelot took advantage of that to plunge his sword into the Klingon's belly.

The Klingon fell to his knees. Malcolm hit him on the head again and he fell senseless to the floor. Lancelot kicked the bat'leth away as Malcolm grabbed the Klingon's hands and bound them behind his back with a length of chain lying on the rock floor, just as Brian approached, a bat'leth and a Klingon knife in his hands.

Lancelot turned his attention to Brian just in time to see the boy go down when another Klingon caught him with a backswing of a mining tool. Brian was out and Alpert lay in a pool of blood on the floor behind this Klingon. Lancelot leaped over a box of crystals on the floor between him and the Klingon, just as the Klingon swept up the bat'leth Brian had been carrying. Lancelot brought his sword down on the Klingon's back as he was rising from where he had stooped to retrieve the Bat'leth. Lancelot wrenched his sword out of a slight wound on the Klingon's back and was almost able to side step a bat'leth swipe. It raked the side of Lancelot's hip, but Lancelot brought his sword up under the Klingon's arm before he swung the bat'leth back in and thurst the sword deep into the armpit. The arm on that side went limp, and the Klingon lost his grip on his bat'leth but backing away, picked up the bat'leth with his other arm. But now Meadows and Carter were behind him. Seeing that he would soon be overwhelmed, the Klingon touched a metal pin near his shoulder with the back of his hand and faded away in a glitter of sparkles. The other Klingon disappeared too. Then two boxes of crystals went from the extraction platform just as Amanda dropped down from the extraction shaft with one of her team. They disappeared with the boxes.

"Damn!" said Malcolm, touching his COM badge. "Reed to Enterprise! Sergeant Cole and one other MACO are aboard the Klingon ship!"

"We're on it!" _Enterprise_ replied.

A few moment later came the word "We beamed a standby MACO team aboard the Klingon ship. The ship has been secured. It won't be sending any more Klingons to bother you. See what you can do for any survivors there. Then, RTB."

"We are to return-to-base," said Malcolm, "after checking around here."

Malcolm's people found no mining personnel alive but another group of miners with paramedics had landed in a shuttle from the nearest mined asteroid and were starting to assess the damage.

Malcolm dragged the remaining Klingon to the extraction platform and arranged through the COM to have him returned to the Klingon ship. He walked over to see Brian was up on his feet again, only lightly wounded, then knelt beside Alpert and shook his head saying "I think there is a backboard hanging on the other side of this chamber. We will carry him to the extraction platform and get him beamed to _Enterprise_."

Mission completed, Malcolm let his team rest before they climbed the metal stairway to return to the shuttle. He pulled an MRE off his belt and snapped it open. It warmed and he squeezed it for a bite. Carter and Meadows did likewise until they noticed that Lancelot and Brian had nothing to eat. Meadows grinned and passed his MRE to Lancelot who held it, frowning into the open end.

"Go ahead; try some 22nd century field rations. I'll bet it is better than what you get in the field in the 6th century."

Lancelot tried a bite and winced. He grinned. "I am glad to see field rations have not improved in fifteen centuries. In fact...well, beside delicious small oatcakes flavored with honey, for field rations, after a battle my squire would usually kill a fresh rabbit or bird and roast it over an open fire."

Carter sighed and smacked his lips. "I see your point. I guess some things don't improve over time."

...

Back aboard Enterprise, Malcolm stored four bat'leths and six Klingon knives in his armory. These would be useful for practicing Klingon tactics during some future PT sessions. Physical training in Starfleet had taken on some novel variations in the past few years. Too bad that Lancelot and Brian had not been willing to give up any of their weapons or armor, but Malcolm did realize that they would need these for their own defense now that they would be going home soon.

"Care to join me for a bite to eat?" asked a soft voice behind him.

"Hoshi, yes I would," Malcolm said, closing the locker on the Klingon weapons. "How is it going with our newest Starfleet recruits, the captain, and Daniels?"

"Well, I am glad I was allowed to leave once they all had portable translators, but I heard quite an ear full. Daniels was not very happy about the extent of Lancelot's knowledge of the 22nd century or his pointed questions about the 29th century. Oh, and when Admiral Gardner was teleconferencing with them over the situation, Daniels got the admiral quite annoyed with his arrogance. So Gardner confirmed Lancelot's temporary commission, just to spite Daniels."

"Good for him," grinned Malcolm. "What is going to happen to the Klingon ship? And those thieving Klingons?"

"Since they didn't get away with the dilithium, they are being returned to Qo'nos as a good will gesture. We don't need more enemies with the Romulan situation heating up. But we won't be taking them back. In the spirit of alliance cooperation we will hand them over to the Andorians, who, by the way, were eager for the job."

"Understandable. I'll bet on the way to Qo'nos they will be submitted to the latest in Andorian interrogation equipment. But that is none of our concern. What about the ship?"

"Undergoing reverse engineering as we speak. I think the Klingons will be more careful about their incursions into the Terran System in the future."

"No doubt," said Malcolm, offering his arm to Hoshi as they left for the crew mess hall.

11


	5. Chapter 5

_**A Camelot Knight in Starfleet Command**_

A further adventure in The Adventures of Sir Lancelot

And parody loosely based on A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

By Bineshii

**Chapter 5: Time to Go Home**

Daniels paced the length of Captain Archer's ready room, then paced back again, hands clasped behind his back. He paused to turn; facing Sir Lancelot, watching him sitting relaxed in Archer's ready room guest chair, and started his pacing again. He didn't even look at Archer, so put out was he with the man at this moment. Never had Daniels dealt with another man or woman who had thrown so many obstacles in the path of his keeping history on the straight and narrow, as Captain Archer.

Yet, this latest disruption was not actually Archer's fault. Those bungling Klingons in their hap-hazard approach to science and technological development had set this whole aberration in motion. What in history had changed that caused them to crash an experimental ship onto 6th century earth? My god, he would have to track that down and correct it, if he could. If he could do that, the magic reset button would be pushed and an accomplished warrior and inspired social reformer as smart as Sir Lancelot would never be catapulted into the 22nd century with a squire who had the makings of an engineer with the talents of Trip Tucker's caliber. What a mess!

He knew he had to send these two back immediately. Before they absorbed anything more from the 22nd century. Fortunately, these two understood about dangers of time disruption. At least Sir Lancelot seemed to, though that boy, Brian, was a bit rebellious on the subject. Archer was no help, sitting there smirking over getting Sir Lancelot marked down into Starfleet history as a Starfleet officer with the rank of Lieutenant Commander so he fit in under the direction of Commander Reed on that clever eviction of the Klingons from that asteroid. What the hell would the equivalent of knight from King Arthur's time be anyway in such disparate military organizations? It was enough to give a man headache that even 40th century medicine might not be able to cure, let along his own 29th century cures.

Daniels turned in mid pace and confronted Sir Lancelot. "I may not be able to wipe your mind and Brian's of all this 22nd century knowledge. You have been here too long. There are some things not even 29th century science can do."

"Could you not appeal to the men-at-arms of time control in a century beyond your own?" asked in a logical way by the man from a time of belief in witchcraft and magic.

"No! That would make ME a meddler into things that MY TIME should not know! I took an oath!"

"Then I was out of my place even to suggest such a thing," Lancelot said, grinning at Captain Archer.

Then Daniels strode over to Archer's desk and wrapped his knuckles on it, thinking. "Oaths. The people of your time were very big on them. You took an oath of knighthood. And an oath of allegiance to your King." He walked over to Lancelot and established close eye contact. "I may not be able to unravel the Klingon's part in this so that time will reset and you return to ignorance of all you have learned and participated in here. So, I will have to rely on your honor sealed with an oath not to use any of this knowledge for the rest of your life in your own time. I can, at least, send you back to your time. Your part should not be too hard."

Lancelot stood up, his face suffused with anger. "My part, and Brian's, not too hard? Not at all," he said sarcastically. "No, all you would be doing is to make me think whenever I see a friend dying of what I guess could be appendicitis or cancer, that I know there are people in the future and even right in my own time on other worlds, who can fix those things. When I see a friend fallen in battle with horrible wounds, I will think on how you could take away his pain and even save his arm or leg. When I and my fellowship are retreating across a battlefield, I will be thinking about how just one phase pistol could turn the tide of battle. And when I am shivering only six feet from a fire in a cold castle, I will be thinking of how with a touch of your finger, you activate heat and light controls to keep you and your family warm, dry, and able to read all night if you so desire, without ruining your eyes. And when, if I am privileged to die of old age, I will be thinking that the number of my years at my life's end is only your early middle age."

Daniels avoided Lancelot's eyes and stared his feet. He suddenly realized the burden he was placing on this man. "I am sorry. This is the best I can do. Please, as a great favor to your descendants, will you take an oath not to use any of this knowledge that you have? And can you ask your Brian to do so too?"

Lancelot suddenly looked much older than his years. "It appears there is no other option. Even with all the power you have, this power still has limits. It is obvious that I must take such an oath."

Captain Archer stood also, in respect for this man. "Then we are indebted to history more than we thought. We stand on the shoulders of giants, even if their stature is physically less than ours."

...

Brian massaged Lancelot's back and applied a salve that Dr. Phlox had given him.

"This ship is full of Scathaches." Said Brian. "I guess I had a heads up on what a woman can become when I trained with her last year on the Isle of Skye." Then he gasped. He had just let slip the information he was supposed to have kept secret – that Scathach was a female trainer of warriors.

Lancelot grinned. "Don't worry Brian, I already guessed as much from that little slip of the tongue you made when I questioned you about your mysterious shadow warrior. So, you finally tell me the name of your mentor on the Isle of Skye! I had thought she was only a legend before your meeting with her. And the people on this ship thought WE were only a legend. But now I realize there have been woman warriors throughout history. I should have guessed that from the Roman legends of Amazons that my mother read to me from scrolls as a child."

"No one read to ME as a child. None of the people I knew had this skill. Not even Urgan the Strong."

"Brian, reading is a great invention and often a pleasure as well as a useful art. It overwhelms me to realize that everyone in this age is taught to read. It is only a rare privilege in our time."

"I'd like to take some of these padds back with me. Think of all the knowledge we could bring back. And a phase pistol."

"No, Brian. We have been over this before. We took an oath. Captain Archer explained to me why we should not take anything back and Daniels, in his arrogant way, reinforced that. It is not just to preserve the skills I have developed in our time or because I have become one of the best at them. Captain Archer is right that we as a people are not ready for these weapons. Socially, temperamentally, our civilization is in its infancy. But it is a splendid time. I would not trade a fresh cooked rabbit over an open fire for these Starfleet field rations, would you?"

"I suppose not, My Lord. But why couldn't we have both?"

"My Boy, I believe that the one would replace the other without us being able to stop it. Humans discard the good with the bad, just because it is old. I have seen enough of this behavior just within our own time period."

"If you say so, My Lord," Brian said reluctantly.

"To emphasize this further, do you realize that Malcolm could be a direct descendant of you or I?"

"Truthfully? I had not considered that. He doesn't look a bit like you or I."

"No, there are many ancestors for each person, even us. Yet there are some things...ethics, attitudes, beliefs...that I can't quite identify, but make me feel kinship with him. Our people, visiting other worlds one day, I am proud of that, Brian."

"Me too, I guess. But I want to go to other worlds too, now that I know they exist!"

Brian finished the massage and went over to the view port and put his hand on it as if he could catch and hold one of the distant stars streaking by.

Lancelot pushed himself up from the bunk and walked over to Brian, putting his hands on the boy's shoulders to get him to look up into his eyes. "Brian, I know you were upset when I had our computer turned off. But this is not our time, not our place. But we helped to build this. We are important as ancestors to these people. Be content with that, and proud of it. Our lives may not be as long; our lives may be physically harder, but as one of us gives a leg up to someone mounting a tall horse, we as a people did give, or WILL give – however you look at it, a leg up in civilization to our descendants who will build these marvelous star ships."

Lancelot lightly squeezed Brian's shoulders with his hands, then patted his cheek. He wanted the best of life for this boy who was essentially an adopted younger brother. He had considered asking Captain Archer if Brian could stay in this time period. The boy would have greater options in life, his humble origin would no longer haunt him. But Lancelot needed Brian as much as Brian had needed Lancelot. Brian belonged to Britain of the 6th century as much as Lancelot did. With Daniel's help, they would return to live out their lives there.

With that in mind, Lancelot picked up his sword belt and buckled it on. Brian picked up the bag of purposely loose weaving to look like it was from their time. Inside was a glass vial Dr. Phlox had given them with two doses of medication to counter act the dizziness of the return journey to their time. And there were two peanut butter sandwiches which chef had given Brian. Also, Brian had secreted something to take back from this time. It was just a bunch of small things, he thought. It would not matter, would it? Sighing, Brian followed Lancelot to the cargo bay where they were to say good-bye to the crew of the _Enterprise _and start their return journey to the 6th century on earth.

...

Brian saw that Daniels had set up a shimmering sort of box thing in the cargo bay. He looked around at the now familiar faces of many of _Enterprise's_ crew. He would miss them. He could never forget them, much as Sir Lancelot said they should never mention them back home. Brian went over to Travis and shook his hand. Next to Lancelot, he had never had a better teacher - unfortunately a teacher of things he would never be doing again.

Lancelot headed straight for T'Pol and lifted her hand to his lips. "I will remember that your people were, I mean will be, great friends of my people, one day."

Trip Tucker was standing nearby, a concerned look on his face, Lancelot noticed out of the corner of his eye. Lancelot turned to him with a sly smile. "Take care of this lady. You might be making her the mother of some of my descendents one day. Too bad that I could not have cute little pointed ear children in a more direct line."

Lancelot turned to say good-bye to Captain Archer before Trip Tucker could respond to that. He and Brian said the rest of their good-byes quickly before any tears could start to flow. Then they stepped through Daniel's shimmering curtain and back into a warm afternoon in a clearing that had a week's worth of new grass growing over a trail of burn marks.

**Epilogue**

Lancelot and Brian had collected their horses from Sir Ector who had been keeping them unused despite Lancelot's mysterious disappearance for a whole week. The knight and his squire rode nine miles from the castle and were approaching the next village on their way back to Camelot.

"We should stop for the night at this village. Unfortunately, Brian, I have only enough money left to buy some oats and hay for our horses. We will have to do without food until we can hunt in the woods tomorrow."

Lancelot dismounted and was about to lead his horse up to a nearby stable.

"We can eat all we would like, My Lord. Here," and Brian dug a pouch out of his saddlebag which was heavy with coin. He handed it down to Lancelot who almost dropped it, not expecting its weight.

Lancelot drew himself up to his full height, hefting Brian's purse with a tight straight mouth and raised eyebrows. "Brain, where in the world did you get all this money? Have you been up to something I would not approve of?"

"Oh, no, My Lord, never. Well, maybe just a little bit. On that space station I traded my smaller dagger and a belt made of chainmail for a couple of kits to make machines. The museum curator said my things were authentic late Roman/early medieval period and priceless antiques. Since I could not take these kits back to our own time, I took them back. He asked me if I would like one-hundred dollars instead, but I could not take computer credits or paper money back with me either. Then I looked at my wrist and the bracelet he had given me that made the fleas march right down my arms and off my body. His cat had gotten fleas and this bracelet cured his pet too. So I asked him for more magic bracelets and he got me a box of 200 of them from his cat doctor. My purse that you are holding contains coins from my selling only five bracelets to Sir Ector's people. And that is only fair, because it was them that I got the fleas from in the first place. Just think what we can get for the rest of these bracelets back at Camelot!"

Lancelot's face relaxed and he smiled. "That is alright then. I see you have done nothing wrong, although I do feel you made a rather sharper bargain with that museum curator than I would have liked. But it is your money, boy, not mine. I will borrow enough from you to feed us and the horses until we return home and then I will pay you back. I don't think this violates our oath at all, because when these bracelets are gone, we do not know how to make more of them."

Lancelot patted Brian on the shoulder and the boy sighed gratefully, smiling at the ground with relief and half closing his eyes under his long fair eyelashes. He would never have knowingly cheated anyone in a trade. He remembered the museum curator had laughed in delight and called him something in jest, what was it now? Oh yes, and he had meant to ask Lancelot about it. He would do so now.

"Sir Lancelot, why did he call me a Ferengi?"

"I have no idea, Brian. Forget it. We have a lot to forget, don't we? But remember, life is good here and we have most of our lives yet to live. Let's get a bite to eat now, good food from our own time from now on. Eh, Brian?"

**End note** – I hope you enjoyed this story because I enjoyed writing it. If you are a Star Trek fan and have not seen The Adventures of Sir Lancelot; it is a 1950's TV series that I loved as a child and is quite enchanting. You probably could find it on Y Tube or get it from . The characters of Lancelot and Brian are delightful.

If you already are an Adventures of Sir Lancelot fan and have not seen Star Trek: Enterprise, it may still be on a cable channel somewhere. And of course you can get it from . It is my favorite Star Trek series, though I like every Star Trek series and movie.

I have written fan fiction for both these series on and for Sir Lancelot onTumblr. If you liked this story, you may like to try other stories that deal with each of these series alone. And please try your hand at some fan fiction writing yourself if you haven't already! It is a great hobby and could lead on to a writing career as some fan fiction writers have already discovered.

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